by Fiona Palmer
‘She has a brother Rocco and we will go meet her tomorrow at her house. You can talk more.’
‘Brilliant.’ Toni reached out and gripped Stefano’s arm. ‘Thank you. Is Rocco alive?’
‘Si, she talked as if he alive and not past.’
Flick’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t dared let herself believe it, and glancing at her mum’s similar expression, she wasn’t the only one. ‘Oh my God, Mum. Your real dad is alive!’
Toni staggered to her bed and sat down. Flick shot to her side, unsure whether she would faint or throw up.
‘I didn’t really want to get my hopes up,’ Toni said softly.
Flick really wanted to ring Nan and tell her the good news but the phone was only for local calls. She would have to wait until they returned home; not even a postcard or letter would reach her before they themselves would.
‘She’s happy to talk with you, interested why you find Rocco. I didn’t say. Thought it better we tell her in person.’
‘Thanks so much. You said “we”, so you’ll come with us tomorrow?’ In her mind she was crossing her fingers. ‘You can get off work?’
He nodded. ‘Of course. I get to help two beautiful Australians.’ His eyes found Flick, causing the air to thin as if they were on a mountaintop rather than a hill.
Flick mumbled another ‘thank you’, but it just didn’t seem enough for what he was offering. But then again, if he ever came to Australia, there’s no doubt that she would drop everything to do the same for him. It was good to know that human kindness was still alive and kicking.
They returned to the kitchen to work out their schedule for tomorrow and check the maps. Stefano was so easy to talk to, and soon they were chatting about the differences between Italy and Australia – comparing the cost of things, what his schooling had been like and whatever farming-related information Toni could get out of him.
‘So have you seen all of the village here?’ he asked Flick an hour later.
‘A little.’
‘I will walk you around the rest if you like?’
‘Oh, that would be great.’ A personal tour guide, and a handsome one to boot.
Toni was staring at the world map that they’d used to show Stefano where Sunnyvale was. Flick would have bet money on it that she was feeling homesick or stressing over Rocco. Knowing he was alive would give her something to think about all night.
‘You coming, Mum?’
‘Sorry, what?’
Flick repeated herself. Toni shook her head. ‘I might give it a miss and write in my journal instead. But please, take lots of photos for me.’ She smiled with a slight twinkle in her eye, and Flick knew exactly what she was up to.
‘If you insist.’ Flick grinned back, then hugged her and followed Stefano down to the door, forgetting all about her camera.
As they walked up steep brick-paved streets, down rock steps, under arches and through little tunnels, Stefano told her about the history of Montone, including the noble family of Fortebracci. He embellished with detail on the festivals, dancers on stilts, the colour, music and medieval dress.
‘On Easter Monday the Montonesi dress up in medieval clothes and play some of the medieval sports such as archery. La Donazione della Santa Spina, which is the Gift of the Holy Thorn – this is a festival day for us. It is said a thorn from the crown of Jesus was presented to Carlo Fortebraccio and is now held by the church since 1473.’
Hearing him speak and say the Italian names for things was like listening to music from another country: hypnotic, beautiful and different. Flick stretched her arms out and swung them freely as if scooping up every word. She felt like jelly, all loose and relaxed. ‘Wow, you have so much history. It’s amazing to be able to see it and touch it.’ Flick admired the balconies above them, draped with colourful flowers. It was all so enchanting.
Stefano reached for her hand and gently pulled her towards another high sloping street. ‘Did you know that the Umbria Film Festival is here also? They show many of the world’s latest films in the Piazza Fortebraccio.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, a big event and always fun. Come this way, at the very top is Rocca di Braccio.’
She let him lead her up, enjoying the warmth of his hand and the connection. They passed a stately bell tower and came to magnificent remains.
‘It was destroyed in 1478 by Pope Sixtus IV.’ He let her hand slip away as they stopped.
Flick wandered around until she came to the edge of another wall with yet another stunning panoramic view. The air seemed as clear and vibrant as the landscape itself.
‘I don’t think I could ever get sick of this view,’ she said, more to herself than to him.
‘Maybe you will come back?’
She turned to Stefano. He was leaning against the short wall, watching her carefully.
‘That would be cool. It’s so different from home. You should come to Australia. I’d show you around, you could help out on our farm,’ she said with a grin. ‘We’d give you a job.’
He squinted. ‘How much would you pay me?’ he asked teasingly.
Flick told him the going hourly rate and laughed as his eyes exploded.
‘Incredibile! Maybe I should come. You would take care of me, si?’
‘Yes, Aussie bush hospitality at its best. Bonfires, sheep work, walks up the granite rock, wildflowers and kangaroos. You’d love it.’
Some of her fringe was blowing across her face in the slight breeze. Stefano was watching it intently. For a moment she thought he was going to reach out and touch it. She smiled nervously.
Softly, he said a few words in Italian. ‘Hai un bel sorriso.’
‘You do remember I don’t know any Italian.’
‘Lucky for me,’ he said, turning away from her and starting to walk back along the path.
It just made her more curious. She reached for his arm, and he paused. ‘What did you say?’
‘Hai un bel sorriso,’ he said slowly, and shot her a cheeky smile.
‘Stefano,’ she growled. ‘In English.’
He chuckled. ‘Not today. Come, I go back to work and see if someone can work instead of me tomorrow.’
Flick hurried after him. ‘You said you’d come with us without even checking on work first?’
His polo shirt rose up above his belt as he shrugged giving Flick a glimpse of his narrow waist. Her breath caught in her throat.
‘I know it will be okay. It is a family business, my parents will understand.’
Back at the restaurant, a similar-aged girl was setting up some tables but stopped to stare at them. Flick wondered if she was Stefano’s sister. She had dark wavy hair and a generous mouth.
The pretty girl approached Stefano and started talking to him while looking Flick up and down. Something in her gaze was uncomfortable and Flick got the distinct impression that she probably wasn’t a sister.
‘This is Sofia, she works with us. She will cover my lunch shift tomorrow.’
Stefano looked pleased, which was more than she could say about Sofia. Her dark eyebrows were pressed together, eyeing Flick accusingly.
They spoke more Italian, and Flick felt like a third wheel. ‘Um, look. I’ll go and leave you be,’ she said, cutting in.
‘You coming for dinner?’
There was hope on his face and it set her heart aflutter.
‘Sure, you know a good restaurant?’
Now Sofia was watching their interaction with a scowl. It wasn’t fun being the odd one out.
Stefano’s lips curled up at the edges. ‘I do.’
His wink was so quick she nearly missed it.
Flick waved, including Sofia in her goodbye. ‘Ciao.’
She jogged back to their house with a stupid grin. She was glad they were coming back for dinner. It felt like she’d known him for weeks instead of a few days. How could that be? And then tomorrow they would be spending even more time together. She couldn’t wait.
24
THE next day
Toni sat in the back of the car as she watched Stefano driving, with Flick was in the front keeping him company. The two were hitting it off so well. He was such a lovely young man, so kind, and with beautiful manners. He had a cheeky streak, which reminded her of Jimmy, a characteristic that made life a little interesting and fun. Flick, it seemed, had inherited similar tastes.
Toni wished she hadn’t thought about Jimmy again, but it was hard not to. She saw visions of him in the morning light, she caught aspects of him in Stefano and she recognised him in some of the things Flick said. He was embedded in everything around her and their time apart was proving much harder than she’d anticipated. She felt as if she’d lost half her brain; she was so used to being with him every day and he could always predict her actions. He would be taking good care of the farm and Maggie, she knew that without a doubt. Her trust in him was faultless. In her eyes, he was perfect.
‘I care for you,’ he’d said. Did he really mean that? Was he aware of what all that entailed? Is that why he let her go? Toni had never really loved anyone besides her family. Could she handle things if they didn’t work out? Could you mend a 53-year-old heart if it broke?
Tracing her lips with her finger, she remembered his kiss by the bonfire. Closing her eyes, she felt his breath as he whispered against her ear. With a sigh, she realised she was just tormenting herself.
The kids in front were laughing and Toni tried to focus on their conversation. They had such easygoing natures and bounced off each other as if they had been friends for years. Since dinner last night, she had noticed a change. They joked and teased, and the looks did linger. Stefano hadn’t waited on them like the previous night, instead they had a girl who wasn’t as friendly. Her English had been basic, to the point of being rude.
‘What do you reckon, Mum?’ said Flick, looking back. She wore a sweet white lace dress and had her hair out. Even without make-up she was gorgeous.
‘About what?’ Toni knew the extra effort was for a certain young man driving their car. Luckily for them the weather had been lovely during the day. But Stefano had mentioned it had been raining on and off lately.
‘Stefano said he would take us out to Gubbio tomorrow. It’s not far from us and there are medieval, Gothic and Renaissance monuments and an old Roman amphitheatre.’
‘It is also known for its ceramics. You have some in your place in Montone,’ said Stefano without taking his eyes off the road.
‘Wow, that sounds great.’ Toni leant forward. ‘Are you sure you can spare the time?’
‘I don’t work till dinner, so if we go early we can be back in time. You will need a few good hours there to explore.’
Flick was watching her, eagerly waiting for her decision. ‘That would be wonderful, Stefano. Thank you.’
‘Prego,’ he said.
Toni was used to the Italian word for ‘you’re welcome’. Every time they thanked someone, ‘prego’ followed. She could just about add the basic greetings to her Italian vocabulary now. For a moment, she wondered how nice it would be to go home and say something to Jimmy in Italian. What was Italian for ‘I care for you too, but I’m scared’?
‘We’re here, right on time too. Thanks, Stefano. Last time we took a detour without even realising,’ said Flick as a sign for Chiaravalle went past. Flick guided him to the right street and he parked out the front of a simple house just on the outskirts of town.
Toni grabbed all the records and photos as they got out.
They all fell into step as they walked through the knee-high gate. The house was rendered, with one half in an apricot colour and the other half, which jutted out towards the road, a shade of green. There was a small vacant block by the house that had a vegetable garden, and grass grew through pavers that connected it to the house. They paused at a pine front door with two gold knobs. Two sets of eyes watched Toni. They were leaving it up to her. Lifting her hand, she clenched her fist to stop the shakes and knocked quickly.
Flick rubbed her hands together. ‘I’m so excited.’
Toni nodded, unable to speak. Last night they had talked into the night, running on tea and nerves, discussing where Rocco could be. Was he married? Did he have kids? Was he happy? Would he see them? They had talked until their eyelids had drooped and yawns grew many.
Stefano slid a hand into his jeans pocket. He wore a white T-shirt with a red strip across the front. Today he smelt young, fresh and manly, no lingering scent of restaurant food. The sparkle in Flick’s eyes brought a warmth to Toni’s heart; she loved seeing her daughter so happy and alive. She wore a similar expression when she returned from watching a sunset with Contractor and Fella. Toni was blessed to have such a charismatic, bubbly daughter. Simon had given her the gift of an angel. Shame stabbed at her – Simon didn’t know how amazing his own daughter was, but over the years Toni had grown to live with the pangs of guilt. Why did they seem even more intense today?
The door rattled open to reveal a medium-built woman wearing slippers and a tracksuit, similar to something Maggie would wear.
‘Buongiorno,’ she said softly. Her faded brown hair was cut short, and lines tracked along her face.
‘Buongiorno. Francesca?’ asked Toni.
The older lady smiled and gestured for them to come in.
Stefano continued with introductions as Francesca led them to a sitting area. Toni and Flick smiled, greeting her with ‘ciao’ when they heard their names mentioned.
Francesca waved to the worn yellow couch while she sat in an upright chair next to it. It was a tight fit as all three of them sat down. The room was small and had white walls decorated with photos, plates and some religious mementos. A chest sat in the corner of the room, overflowing with kids’ toys.
It was difficult to know what to say, especially when poor Stefano had to repeat it for them. But seeing as though he knew a lot about their story, he took the lead and spoke to her at great length. Toni handed over the records and showed Francesca the photo.
She nodded emphatically and grinned. ‘Si, Rocco. Fratello.’
‘Yes, he’s her brother,’ said Stefano.
Toni’s stomach released the twisted knot it had been forming since they arrived. She knew without a doubt they had the right family.
‘Where is he?’ asked Flick.
Stefano repeated it and more discussion continued, then a look of shock spread across Stefano’s face. ‘Scherzi!’ he said.
‘What? What’d she say?’ pressed Toni. She scooted forward on the couch. She needed to know now. She was almost sure that Francesca had said Australia. But that couldn’t be possible, could it?
‘You not believe where Rocco is.’ He paused, his eyes wide.
‘Montone?’ said Flick. ‘Arezzo?’
Stefano shook his head. A smile tugged at his perfect lips. ‘Western Australia.’
‘What!’ Flick and Toni said in unison. Francesca nodded as they gazed at her.
‘How? Why? When?’ Toni rattled off.
‘She said he returned to Australia after the war and now lives there.’
Toni was so astonished she couldn’t process what this meant. She turned to Flick, her eyes as huge as party balloons.
‘No way. We came all the way to Italy to find Rocco and he’s in our own state?’
Stefano smiled at Flick and confirmed it. He seemed almost as excited as they were by the discovery, swept up in their saga.
Toni blinked back tears of surprise while her mind raced. ‘Please ask her why he went back,’ she prompted Stefano gently.
Francesca stood up after his question, went to a petite wooden cupboard and pulled out a small album. She flicked through it as she sat back down, sliding a few photos free from under the clear cover and passing them across to Toni. She instantly recognised the same picture they had, of Rocco and Giulio with the kangaroo. Tears welled in her eyes. Flick was also blinking rapidly, and her smile reflected how Toni felt. This was a major connection. Something linking Italy to Sunnyvale, their history intertwined.
‘These are some that her brother gave her,’ said Stefano.
‘Oh, we have these same photos.’ Toni got out the ones they’d also brought, of Rocco by the new house and one with the Fullers. She passed them to Francesca, who laughed and nodded while mumbling something in Italian. She looked just as amazed at what they shared.
Francesca held out the photo of Uncle Charlie, Maggie and their parents and pointed at Maggie.
Stefano translated Francesca’s words: ‘Rocco returned to Australia for this woman. He said he loved her. It was three years before he was allowed back.’
Toni’s jaw dropped. Flick was staring with the same expression. Rocco had come for Maggie.
‘But Nan never saw him.’ Flick looked grief-stricken. She reached across Toni for Stefano’s hand. ‘Please ask her what happened after he got to Australia?’
Waiting for Francesca’s words to be translated was excruciating.
‘She said that he went to Australia, got work with a farmer who had um . . . sponsored, I think is the right word?’ When they nodded he continued. ‘They sponsored him and then after time he bought his own farm. She says he never talked of this girl again.’
They all looked at Maggie in the black and white photo and fell quiet.
Toni pulled some of the other photos Francesca had closer, ones of an older Rocco – maybe in his late twenties – standing by a tent between gum trees, and another of him on what must have been his wedding day, looking older again and very handsome beside his blonde bride. It was surreal to think that this was her father. Emotions rolled around her like waves, bringing a new feeling each time: sadness, joy, loss, regret.
‘He got married. Wow.’ It was very likely she had siblings too.
‘This is him a few years ago, when he last visited Italy,’ said Stefano, indicating the photo Francesca had mentioned.
‘Could we have this one, please?’ asked Flick. ‘Tell her I’d like to take it to show my grandmother. I can make a copy of it and post it back. Tell her that this is my grandmother.’
Francesca reached for her hand and nodded, talking to Stefano some more.
‘She said you can take it. She doesn’t know what happened. He did mention the farm and talked a lot about the girl he was going back to marry, but once he was there it all suddenly stopped.’